


For a Mere Copper Penny

by Illegible_Scribble



Series: 31 Days of Frodo/Sam, 2018 [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Frodo is flirty, M/M, Pre-Quest, Sam is a blushy mess, Smoochtober 2018, Suggestion of kisses-to-be, and extra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 11:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illegible_Scribble/pseuds/Illegible_Scribble
Summary: During the Free Fair, Sam stumbles across a booth attended by someone all together unexpected, offering, perhaps, the fulfillment of a dream.





	For a Mere Copper Penny

**Author's Note:**

> As far as the prompts go, for the time being I'm considering this piece complete, but as the month goes on it might well get a continuation.  
> Based on [this prompt](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/132744) for Smoochtober 2018, #2: Blowing a Kiss.

It was the first Free Fair Sam had been to in quite some years. In the past, for one reason or another, the Gamgees simply hadn't the time or were caught up in something else to be able to make the trip to Michel Delving – but this year, it seemed the world had lined up just so to make it possible. Mr. Bilbo had invited them along, even, with no expectations nor askance for any work to be done for the Bagginses on the trip – in fact, he said, they were all to be a Company, as equals, like.

They'd arrived just the night before, and all slept soundly, waking early and with delight on the morn of Lithe 1. Sam had spent it so far, with either his Gaffer or sisters or Mr. Bilbo, either helping them carry something or making sure they'd had their hats and baskets for shopping and suchlike, until just now Bilbo had sent him off for a bit of fun for himself.

It was about ten or so, and still quite cool for near-midsummer; the wind was in the West, and blowing a crisp breeze through to keep the Michel Delving fairgrounds temperate and pleasant.  
Alone as he now was, Sam wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. There were colorful tents and stalls with more trinkets and knick-knacks and foods than he thought he'd ever seen in his life, not to mention all the games, or livestock and vegetables being shown off for the best-in-show competition (winners would be announced on Lithe 2).

Overwhelmed and giddy, Sam had briefly wandered past some of the merchants' rows, and marveled at a dwarf blacksmith that was showing how he made daggers and knives, and selling them veritably hot off the anvil. Fascinated as he was, he didn't tarry overlong, wanting to see as much as he could at least briefly at first, so if he found something he particularly liked, he'd have time to go back to it.

In his continuing wanders he did give in and got himself a bit of candy floss, not having had any since he had been but knee-high to his Gaffer. It was remarkably sticky, he found, but as sweet as he remembered from years ago, and melt-in-your-mouth delicious, as though you were eating a cloud.

He was nearing the end of his floss when he wandered back to the merchants' rows, hoping to find a spigot he might rinse off at. He'd come to a rather large, plaza-like intersection of the rows, and in the middle there was a small, circular stage, and a small band of hobbits were playing fiddles, with a crowd gathering round them to cheer and dance. This pleasantly held his attention for some moments, trying to recognize the tune, but the music went completely out of his head when he looked just beyond them, on the other side of the plaza. There was a relatively small booth nestled between a stall selling glass ornaments, it seemed, and another offering wood carvings. The little booth was made of wood, and was decorated to the point of near-absurdity with pink and red streamers, paint and roses covering it. There was a sign above it – pink, of course – and in red paint and fancy script, it read, _'Kissing Booth'_ , with a slightly misshapen set of red paint blotches near it, and Sam assumed it was supposed to look like a pair of lips. (Though really, it looked more like a careless hobbit had let a can of paint spill over it a bit oddly.)

The gaudiness of the booth was quite attention-grabbing, which brought him to wander closer, but the thing that really made Sam forget to savor the last of his candy floss as he neared, was the hobbit managing the booth.

He'd not seen Frodo this morning – Bilbo had merely said he was off on some mischief with his cousins – and of a sudden, Sam realized he had found Frodo. He was wearing a slightly off-white, creamy shirt, with a deep crimson weskit threaded with gold.

Not quite taking notice of himself, Sam drew nearer still, not noticing the last of his floss was gone, until he stood half a dozen or so yards away from the booth. He noticed then another, smaller sign for the booth, resting on the counter, that read: _'Flirting: Free, Kisses: 1 copper penny, Smooches: 5 copper pennies, With Tongue: Please ask'_.

Though Frodo hadn't even noticed him yet, Sam could feel a blush settling onto his cheeks, near as red as some of the roses covering the booth. Frodo himself was pink and flushed, but laughing and looking simply delighted as passers-by – lads and lasses alike – said something sultry and he bantered back in kind, doing his best to sell a kiss.

The copper and few silvers he'd brought with him felt of a sudden they were burning a hole in Sam's pocket. To say the Heir of the Hill, that in all ways reminded Sam of some fantastic elf-lord with stars in his hair, made Sam dizzy with admiration and longing didn't even get to the half of it. As far as Sam knew, there wasn't really a thing you could call perfect – but, if he were ever to deem what was nearest to perfect, it would be Frodo.

Sam stopped staring in flushed disbelief when Frodo finally caught sight of him and waved cheerfully. Sam felt entirely too daft to be able to say anything clever – not to mention self-conscious and sticky from the floss – but like a moth that's spotted a flame, he couldn't help but flutter closer, even on shy and hesitant feet.

Once Sam was within normal talking distance, Frodo smiled and it seemed the sun had truly come out for the first time today. _You're a daft moon-calf, Sam Gamgee,_ thought Sam to himself, furtively trying not to stare, _and a ninnyhammer besides._ “Good morning, Sam!” said Frodo. “Enjoying the Fair so far?”

“A-aye, indeed!” Sam stuttered, trying to get hold of and quiet the thought in his head asking how any hobbit's eyes could be so blue. “T'is a lot to take in, an' no mistake, but fair indeed, as you might say.” _Word-play is for those as ain't sots,_ Sam chided himself, _an' you're a besotted sot, right enough. An' after Mr. Frodo besides!_

“I haven't had a chance to take a good look around yet,” Sam took notice then of the trio of roses – two pink and one red – pinned to Frodo's lapel. It was quite overdone, but at the least fit with the booth. “Seeing as Merry recruited me into this silly confederacy.” Frodo waved a hand about, indicating the booth. “All my Brandybuck cousins are pitching in for this, and considering their camaraderie I couldn't help but join them. We drew straws for shifts, and naturally I got the first.” Frodo had picked up one of the roses sitting behind the sign for prices – its stemmed still attached – and began twirling it between his slim fingers. He was smiling, and a laugh seemed just beneath his words as he spoke of his cousins. “In truth I don't know what the great deal of copper pennies we're going to earn will be for, nor the 'please asks' – Merry says it's for Pippin's higher education, but something tells me he might just be fibbing.” he twirled the rose once more, before bringing the tip of the stem to rest at the corner of his upturned mouth. “Naughty thing.”

“I-I see,” said Sam, catching himself in a daydream about Frodo's hands, and suddenly wondering if he had listened at all to what Frodo had said, “right kind o' you to be helping wi' it all.”

Frodo's smile suddenly broadened, and his eyes were alight with mischievous sparks. He twirled the rose again, suddenly using the blossom to point to the prices, and looked at Sam impishly. “And you could help as well, Sam! I'm afraid flirting doesn't give us much towards little Pip's cause, but what Merry so helpfully defined as 'kisses' and 'smooches' do in fact fill our coffers. As for 'with tongue', well,” he brought the end of the stem to his lower lip, smiling in utter mock-innocence, “that's determined by a tiny bit more than money.”

Sam felt hot from his cheeks right down to his toes, and his heart was aflitter like a befuddled honeybee. Of course, Frodo was running a kissing both for more than just himself – he had other partners to consider – and as the sign said, flirting was free. Certainly he was only doing his job, and keeping up the act to attract other customers? T'was the only sensible reason he'd be so unabashedly flirting with the gardener's son, who was a daft ninnyhammer and not near so lovely and elvish as himself.

The thought, however, crossed Sam's mind that Frodo might just know he made Sam tremble and blush whenever he looked at him too long, and might be teasing him. _Or,_ a fanciful voice in his head suggested, _mayhap he fancies you, too._ The part of him Sam felt the most rational quickly snapped back, _Oh, an' mayhap the Gaffer fancies Mr. Bilbo, eh?! You're a halfwit, Samwise, but right enough you're cleverer than that, surely?_

For the longest moment of his life, Sam could think of nothing to say, and his jaw flapped open and closed without a word coming out. Frodo's act fell away and he sobered, about to apologize when Sam finally managed, “-T'is, only I haven't money wi' me right now, y'see! I- that is, ehm- I would fancy offerin' a patronage, but-” _I couldn't right kiss you here in front of all four Farthings!_ “-I'd rather not pledge meself wi'out the coin wi' me t'back it up.” Sam's cheeks felt so hot he was certain griddlecakes could've been cooked in moments on them. He really didn't know what he was saying - he could only struggle to say something that would tell Frodo he wasn't uncomfortable, and in fact very much wanted a kiss. It felt as though the whole Fair's eyes were on him here, though, and he was far too frightened to get a kiss now, even if he did have the money with him. Stalling was the only thing that came to him to do.

Frodo paused, quirking an eyebrow. Slowly, studying Sam's bright red face, and the abashed but devoted meaning there to be read, he sat back, and brought the stem to his mouth again. “Well,” he said, “by 11:30 Merry will have taken over, but I'll be back in the early afternoon, about 1:30 or so. In between I'll be wandering the Fair – perhaps with you – if you like. I'm quite available to accept... patronages, at any point.” the little smile on his face was so delightfully wicked and knowing, Sam was feeling a tangle of adoration and horror that he was now virtually found out. “Unless...” Frodo added, sounding on the verge of heartbreak, “it happens that another Brandybuck holds your favor, and you seek a kiss from _them_...” Frodo, being thoroughly melodramatic, looked to Sam to save him from despair.

“Oh- n-nay, t'isn't that!” Sam didn't know how to say what it was. “Ehm- I- will come back...” Whatever he'd hoped to say next failed him, and his words petered out to quiet.

Frodo, settling into a balance between a passionate kissing booth attendant and interested friend, leaned forward, setting aside the rose, and said, “I do hope so. Now – don't tell Merry, as I'm really not supposed to do this – but I can offer a bit more than just flirting, if you haven't money on you. Consider it,” with immense grace, Frodo placed a kiss on his own fingers, before tilting his hand forward, towards Sam, and blowing across it, “a free sample.” He winked, eyes sparkling with delight at Sam, who – red as a strawberry and looking in a daze – shyly caught the kiss, and the hand holding it drifted against his heart. “Yours to keep.”

“That I will, an-” said Sam, sounding dreamy, but catching himself of a sudden.

“-And perhaps more, if you like.” finished Frodo, his smile now gentle, with only a hint of something more. “Consider yourself a recognized and valuable customer, Samwise. Ask for what you will, if you fancy it. I think you're more likely to get it than you think.”

Sam, quite unable to take any more of this for the morning, offered a hurried – but avowed temporary – farewell, along with his thanks, and shaking all over followed where his feet willed him, down a random row of stalls. He still held the kiss against his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Optional follow-up story: [For a Mere Bit of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251794).


End file.
